Passion of the Opera
by The Cat Lady
Summary: A collection of short stories based on life after the end of the movie, some facts taken from the book as well. ER Slash, nothing too heavy.
1. Chapter 1

I groaned and stirred, opening my eyes and blinking rapidly, my vision met with darkness. I suddenly remembered where I was, and tried to sit up, but my shoulder felt incredibly pained. I'd been shot. So what was I laying on? I didn't remember. All I knew was that it was soft, warm, smelled good, like... I suddenly pushed myself up again, ignoring this time the searing pain.

I felt arms encircle me to stop me even as my forhead slammed hard into a very low ceiling. I cursed loudly, the other occupant of the room forgotten momentarily, until I heard his low chuckle and the rustle of cloth as the grip tightened on me and pushed me back to the floor.

"Rest boy. You will reopen your wound like that."

I gritted my teeth from the pain, complying with whomever held my shoulders. The touch was soft, gentle, caring, and I felt a deep sense of security with them. My forehead throbbed and I raised my left arm to rub it, and then a thought occured to me. I slowly, hesitantly moved my hand a little to the right and met a body. The hardened body of a well toned man. I heard my breathing increase rapidly.

"Who are you?"

My demand was made softly, but with urgency, and he chuckled again, a soft, sensual sound. I was both infuriated and aroused by it, and I cursed whoever it was silently.

"I'm sure you know. You are the one who came back for me after you heard the first shot, are you not?"

I remembered now. She had begged me to stop them, to save him after the report of the frst shot had echoed over the lake. I had complied, for what reasons I knew not.

"I- you. How did we get here? I came back to help you but-"

"But you were shot. A flesh wound, very minor, but it will hurt for a while, if the bruise on your head doesn't distract you from feeling it. I brought you here because I didn't think it prudent to let them find you down there."

I blushed at his mention of the knot forming on my forehead, embarassed that I had done such a silly thing, but it wasn't really my fault. I dropped my hand to my right shoulder, feeling the bandage wrapped tightly around it, realzing he must have torn his shirt to make it.

"Why did you save me?"

"Why did you come back?" I blushed, having no real answer, I didn't really come for her; I came for... I didn't know. "She asked me to..."

"Then I too saved your life for her."


	2. 2 Aim to Please

He was my anchor to reality, my bastion of strength. I watched him in fascination as his strong, caloused, but incredibly gentle hands played across the keys of the instrument in a mournful melody that sent shivers down my spine. I felt pride, pride in his accomplishments, his skills, his beauty, his strength, and I knew I was undeserving of him. I must have sighed aloud, because abruptly his playing ceased and he turned towards me.

"You are finally awake."

He sounded pleased, and I blushed.

"Your playing is beautiful, Erik, don't stop please."

He ignored my plea and stood, walking slowly towards me. I felt myself tremble with anticipation as he approached, reaching his hand out and carressing my face. He leaned down and kissed my lips lightly, an affectionate gesture that caused my face to tinge with pink, and as he pulled away from the embrace a low chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"Its adorable how you blush like a virginal little girl still yet."

My blush deepened and I glanced floor, my lips lifting into a grin.

"I aim to please."

"Yes, I am aware of that."

His voice came out in a low, predatorial tone, and he pressed his body to mine. I bit back a moan and buried my face into his neck, wrapping my arms around his waist. It was art, this entertwining of bodies, this ecstatic feeling as his rough hands enraged my smooth skin. This is what I wanted, but never got from her. Our mouths found eachother once again and our tongues battled feverishly for dominance. Erik groaned into my mouth, and then broke the kiss, threads of saliva dripping between our lips.

"My Raoul..."


	3. 3 I'm Here

My heart felt like ice as I witnessed her flight from me with him. It was quite undecided who I hated more in that moment; her or her blond lover. I felt rage well up in me as I thought of her parting gift; a lewd kiss that she had tempted me with. It was in that kiss that I realized I had not loved her. That kiss that had awakened this sense of hate for her. I held the ring she had returned to me, grateful that she had at least the decency to do so. I turned and fled. Fled for my life into the winding passages and hidden hallways through the labrynth of my own making.

I felt like a caged bird, unable to fly, to experiance the freedom that normal men and women experianced, unable to feel intimacy or true love with any other. The one kiss I had ever received in my life was like poison to me. It awakened in me a need for more, but not from her. Never again from her. My thoughts turned to another... and instantly I shook my head, chastising myself for the very thought. Don't be stupid Erik, you've no reason at all to be thinking of... him. But I was. He was... so real. So vibrant. Passionate. He cared so deeply. I again shook my head. Forget such thoughts Erik!

I froze suddenly, hearing footsteps echoing, growing louder as they approached where I hid. I heard a voice raised in desperate shouts. It sounded lost. I did not feel like helping at all, but I silently made my way towards the sound for curiosity sake.

"Phantom! Show yourself! I am not here to do you harm. Please, we must speak."

I drew my breath sharply as I recognized the voice. He spoke with the same passion I admired in him, intent on drawing me out of my hiding place, although by doing so placing his own life in danger. It must be fate. There could be no other explanation for the sudden stab of emotion I felt as I watched the blond prince stumble about. I vaguely wondered what he was doing here, but at the moment I didn't care too much. I stepped soundlessly into the passage behind him; and was enclosed in complete darkness. I could sense him, he was frightened, but still he pressed on.

"Phantom! Erik!"

I almost gasped as I heard my name. Where had he learned it? It sounded like a purr coming from his lips. It sounded like a blessing. Like he said it with tenderness. He moaned and dropped to his knees, his head in his hands.

"Please... I need..."

The words were not shouted like the others, but spoken softly, and my heart wrenched and I stepped towards him, kneeling as well and wrapping my arms around him.

"I'm here."


	4. 4 A Little Longer

He was silent as I dressed, a humiliated flush on my fair skin. His hand ran down my spine, sending incredible sensations throghout my body, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of even a whimper. He knew the effect it had on me though; and he sat up on the bed, his hand sliding around my thighs to rest between them, barring my attempt to don my breeches. My breath grew ragged, and I clamped my mouth shut. I would not give him the satisfaction.

I felt his shifting behind me, his legs spread and encircled me, his arms pulling me roughly to his chest. I was imprisoned by this feeling, this desire that I felt, even as I loathed the contact.

"I... can't stay here. Let me go."

His tongue snaked up my neck and I gasped, unable to stop myself. I could almost feel his gloating, mocking grin as he moved his hand under my shirt, his other pushing my breeches back to my knees.

"A little longer."

I bit back the moan that threatened to rip from my throat as he teased my body with his rough, caloused hands that had resulted from many years of hard labor, tears welling in my eyes as my internal confliction raged. Don't touch me you beast... but... please... don't stop...

"Erik" I whimpered as my body responded to his touch "Please... I must go."

"A little longer..."

My senses dulled with the pleasure of the idea, but I forced myself to stay alert. The Phantom wanted me. The man who was thought mythical was flesh and blood, with real drives and desires, and he had proven that to me since the night he'd found me after I'd returned to find him once I had taken her to safety. Then his lust had sprung from a desire to harm me, to damage me, the one who had taken her from him, but now passion drove him. I knew not why I returned night after night, to be used and abused by him, only that I craved this passion, the passion of the opera.


	5. 5 My Sweet Prince

I gazed intently at his sleeping face, an intense feeling welling up in my chest as I took in his blond hair, his long lashes, his sweet, slumbering countenance. I felt a strange sort of feeling for him as I stared at his face, It felt... intense, not at all like what I had felt when I looked at her sleeping form. I realized now that what I had felt then was just an infatuation, driven out of proportion by a man who had never experianced such an emotion, and therefor did not know how to react. But this feeling... it felt so real. It felt like... it felt like love, I realized.

My life until I had met her was centered on my music. I felt an extreme joy when I watched a score take shape in my hands, heard it's echo through the room as it was sung by the mournful wailing lungs of the organ. But she had thrown my life askew. She had scattered my thoughts, distracted my rythym. But with him... I felt collected. I suddenly felt the urge to walk to my organ, seat myself in the state of complete undress I was in, and play something, anything, and the thought of it made me need to stifle my laughter for fear of waking him. Instead I bent down, my lips meeting his forhead, and then positioned myself as close to him as possible. He groaned, the sound of a sleeper disturbed and turned to his side, his eyes opening slightly as he pressed into me.

"hmmm... Goodmorning my Angel."

He whispered the words into my chest, his eyes closed again, and I felt an elation that spread to the very depths of my soul. I stroked my hand down his spine, feeling well rewarded when his lips turned up into a smile and he snuggled closer to me.

"Goodmorning, my prince."


	6. 6 On One Condition

I was lost. I had been chasing him, hunting him, and now I had been caught unguarded in his territory. I was afraid, not of him, but of myself, afraid that I was enjoying myself far too much. I hadn't even thought of her during the chase, only him. I knew I was deep within the labrynth, far away from the shouting soldiers and howling dogs that had hunted with me, and that comforted me. He had lead me to seclusion, and I knew he was near. I could almost feel his breath on my neck in the pitch dark tunnel I crawled through.

I was at a dead end. I pressed my hand to the wall, panic suddenly over riding rational thought. I banged on the wall, my breathing labored with fright, and felt frantically for any sort of doorway or spring that I might have missed. I found a soft spot in the brick wall and pressed. I was rewarded, but only minimally. The brick slid out, falling to the other side, a thick beam of light filtering through, revealing to me the molding carpet of wet leaves I had been walking on.

I closed my eyes, sighing, and leaned back against the wall, still quite afraid, but not as terrified as I had been moments ago. I allowed my body to twist, my back coming flush with the wall, sliding down so that I was seated on the floor, my blond hair being tugged from its restraint.

I felt something brush my cheek, and I reached one hand up. A leaf. I opened my eyes to find it's source and froze at the figure that had been obscured by the darkness and now loomed imposingly above me, his image revealed only by the small amount of light, his features still obscured in shadow. I knew it was him. He who I had been searching for. My heart was gripped in the icy fingers of terror, I felt my resolve shatter like spun glass. He had me right where he wanted me, at his mercy, in his power.

I gasped, realizing I had been holding my breath. He drew his sword, I whimpered, closing my eyes, leaning back against the cold stone.

"Please" I whispered, my voice barely audible, even to myself "Please spare me."

He stepped towards me and my heart pounded. Maybe he hadn't heard me. What would he do to me? I... I was exhilerated with the possibilities. I was at his mercy... and I was fully enjoying myself. He knelt in front of me, and pressed me into the cold wall, his sword threatening to end my anticipation with a flick of the wrist. He spoke, and his voice was low, a sultry growl that made me shiver in spite of myself.

"I will spare you on one condition..."

He pressed his body flush with mine, and I could feel his tension, and I whimpered again. His lips hovered at my ear, his breath hot on my skin.

"And that condition must first be fully met..."


	7. 7 Risky, To Say the Least

I couldn't believe I had agreed to meet him here, it was risky, to say the least. I felt his hand brush mine and I turned, following him to the underground fortress he had built for himself. We went throught the lake taking the secret path the only he knew to cross We stopped quite without warning in the middle of the lake, and he turned to me, a mischevoius grin on his face. He grabbed my hands in his and yanked me forward to him, pressing his mouth to mine. It was an urgent kiss that clouded my senses, I was barely aware of the rustling of cloth as he pulled my shirt up, his hands carressing my warm but shivering body.

We were suddenly in the lake, shedding wet clothing as fast as we could pry it off of our soaking bodies, smothering each other in breathless kisses. He pulled me below the surface, breathing into each other's lungs as we urgently pressed our lips together. We resurfaced gasping for breath, our bodies still intertwined, and he half carried me half dragged me to the stairs leading from the lake where he dropped me quite unceremoniously. I almost protested, but he silenced me with another passionate kiss, his hands exploring my body, teasing me, pleasing me, making me need him.

Four hours later I was in a state of bliss, dry, dressed, dignified as I walked into the train station to the telegraph office. I handed the adress to the man at the counter and penned a telegram.

To: Mme. De Chagney

Bordeaux, France

Have been impatiantly awaiting your returnSTOP Things are very dull without youSTOP Give my love to our precious FelicitySTOP All my love, Raoul.

The man nodded and started tapping the wire out, and I turned and left, a very satisfied man, with a schedule to meet the one I loved again, same time, same place. It was risky, to say the least.


	8. 8 Dress Your Wounds

It had been a daring rescue, and now we both ran for our lives. I followed him blindly; he had no idea where he was going, but I was in too much pain to direct. We pushed through many hidden doors, ran down many dark passages, and my mind was starting to go numb. Unable to go any farther I fell hard to my knees and he turned, surprise and worry etched on his features. I grinned as I felt conciousness slipping and I fell forward. The last thing I felt was strong arms enveloping me, before I completely blacked out.

When I awoke, I was in my bed, my coffin rather, the black satin lining carressing my bare skin. I saw him standing near, tearing bandages from his own shirt. His appearance surprised me. His long blond hair was tied smartly at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon. He must have found my supply, I mused. His neck and shoulders were broad and tan, and very bare, his back was strong and straight. I suddenly had a very ludicrous thought and I touched my hand to my face as though to remove it, and found he had removed my mask.

I suddenly felt intense anger toward him, and I pushed myself up, but the pain stopped me with a loud groan. He turned instantly towards me, and I felt lust begin to over ride my anger. I obstinately focused on my missing mask, and would have started shouting if he had not so quickly leaned over me, his bare skin tantalizing me as he bent down, gently pushing me back,

"You must stay still or you might loosen your bandages."

He treated me so naturally, as though my malformed face was normal, and I suddenly forgave him for removing the mask. He smiled as he leaned over me, fussing about this and that, making sure that my sheets covered me, that I was warm enough, that I was comfortable. I suddenly ended his hen pecking by grabbing him roughly by arm and pulling him over the side of the coffin. He gasped in shock as I pressed against him, the thin, satin sheet the only thing seperating our bodies. He shivered as I ran my hand down his spine, certain of my members suddenly feeling very alive.

I simply could not fathom this insatiable lust that I felt as I gently but urgently undressed him. He struggled but even for my wound he was no match for my strength and I forced him still. His frightened whimper encouraged me and I tore the sheet from betweeen us, pressing our warm bodies together, and closing my mouth over his. He responded, his mouth opening under my pressure, our tongues sliding together in a struggle to dominiate.

The sounds of love reached a crescendo, ending in a blissful scream from my lover as we both relaxed against eachother, panting. He rose and dressed quickly, shame and embarassment plainly on his face, and I simply watched him, pulling the sheet back around me and leaning comfortably against the side of the coffin I called my bed. My shoulder throbbed unmercifully, but ignored it. He turned to me, still shirtless, but his jacket held tight about his shoulders.

"I... I'll be back to change the dressing on your wounds... tomorrow."

He turned and fled, and I grinned to myself. That was not our last.


End file.
